Chapter 37 – Konoha Gold (Part 4)
The chase resumed once more.
Only this time, it was far closer to a dead end.
In the battle just now, Hōzuki Mangetsu had sacrificed an extremely rare Substitute Forbidden Scroll, while Minamoto Ren's side had burned through an excessive amount of chakra.
Ren himself was still holding up, but Hyūga Haining and Shimura Yū were already at their limits. Their legs trembled uncontrollably, chakra reserves unable to keep up with the pace—and yet they could not stop running.
After that brief clash, the pursuit began anew, but now the gap had shrunk dramatically. The distance between the rearmost of Ren's group and the vanguard of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen was less than a kilometer—they could see each other with the naked eye.
If Ren were heartless and cared only for the mission, he could simply abandon his comrades, leaving Haining and Yū to cover the retreat. It might not stop the Seven entirely, but it would certainly slow them down.
But Ren would never do that. No grand reason—he just didn't want to.
"Keep up, Haining."
Ren slowed his pace, placing a hand under Haining's shoulder to take some of the weight.
"Ren-nii… I… I can't run anymore. Give me two explosive tags, I'll hold them off for you." Haining's face was pale as paper, his Byakugan dim and unfocused.
"There are no explosive tags left."
Those words made the last flicker of light in Haining's eyes waver.
Seeing this, Ren's expression under his mask curved into a faint smile.
"But I'm not leaving you behind. I didn't run last time in the Rain Village incident, so why would I now?" he said casually, tugging Haining forward at a quicker pace.
Sweat streamed down Nawaki's face, but he too slowed his pace to support Haining's other side. "Come on, brother—we walk together!"
Haining, buoyed by their words, couldn't bring himself to speak again of dying. The will to survive reignited in him—back then, he had survived against Yoru Kurayami; this time, he would live as well!
"Tch… tiresome bonds. These Konoha shinobi, honestly…" Fuguki Suikazan, raised in the Bloody Mist, despised this kind of camaraderie. To him, the law of the world was simple: the weak are meat, the strong eat.
"Are we in range yet?"
Ever since his near-death, Hōzuki Mangetsu's expression had grown heavy—likely because his margin for recklessness had been spent, forcing him into caution.
He was asking Kurosuki Raiga. Among the Seven Swordsmen, Raiga's Thunderswords had the longest attack range, and they could just barely reach Ren's trailing trio.
"Yeah. Watch this."
Raiga flicked his bandage-wrapped arm, pointing the Thunderswords skyward.
Lightning Blade Technique: Falling Thunder!
A blinding bolt dropped from the heavens, aimed directly at Ren's group—if it struck true, there would be no escaping.
Ren heard the roar of the falling thunder. His hand went to his blade as he hesitated over whether to unleash the Shikotsumyaku. Bone could resist lightning, but it was one of his trump cards—using it now would leave him with little else for what came next.
"Eight Trigrams Palm: Rotation!"
A figure taller than Ren leapt in front of him, hands raised. A milky-white chakra dome bloomed outward, two meters in radius, shielding all three of them.
Hyūga Ganghachirō had stopped running. His back was to Ren's group, his eyes filled with grim resolve.
"Uncle Ganghachirō, run!" Haining shouted desperately over his shoulder.
"You go first. I'll catch up in a moment." Ganghachirō didn't turn, facing instead the onrushing Seven Swordsmen head-on.
"Are you an idiot, Ganghachirō? You're branch family! Do you really have to die for the main family?" Haining's voice was frantic, trying to pull his uncle back—but he had no words that could truly change his mind.
This time, Ganghachirō did turn around.
The man with the caged bird seal on his forehead removed his mask, his eyes brimming with reluctant farewell to the world. He was a man who loved making friends, fine clothes, and elegant accessories. Under the care of his elder brother, Hyūga Yokohachirō, he had not suffered much of the branch family's hardships.
He had lived a life worth living.
He looked at Haining, his gaze soft and full of affection. His lips moved silently, but anyone could read them.
"This isn't the branch dying for the main family.
This is an uncle dying for his nephew."
Hyūga Haining's eyes filled with tears.
"Uncle!!!"
"Eight Trigrams Palms Revolving Heaven!!!"
This time, the massive white dome of chakra swept away everything within five meters. Revolving Heaven was primarily a defensive technique, but it also unleashed an immense repulsive and slicing force when expelling non-elemental chakra!
Revolving Heaven was essentially a Rasengan formed by a human body.
"Brother, please… put me down, I'm begging you, put me down! Uncle Ganghachirō is going to die, he's going to die… wuuuhh—" Haining's voice cracked with sobs.
Nawaki's emotions were just as heavy. Tears streamed silently down his face. Over the past year, he had witnessed betrayal, war, and now—family and loyalty.
Minamoto Ren didn't say a word. He wanted to… but something was lodged in his throat. Briefly activating his Sharingan, he glanced back—
The Seven Ninja Swordsmen's blades glimmered with their distinct auras, shredding through the Revolving Heaven's fading defense with brute force before driving their weapons into Ganghachirō's body.
Ganghachirō ignored his own wounds, driving his Eight Trigrams Palm strikes into nearby enemies, sealing their chakra pathways.
"Madman."
"The Hyūga's dogs really are loyal to the end."
The Seven Ninja Swordsmen couldn't comprehend it—this willingness to sacrifice oneself for a comrade. They would never do such a thing, and so, they could never understand it.
Minamoto Ren's Sharingan swept over each of their faces, his gaze colder than ice.
"Go!"
The single word was all he said before carrying Hyūga Haining away at top speed, distancing them from the Swordsmen.
He knew full well—staying now would be the greatest insult to Ganghachirō's sacrifice.
Night finally fell.
The setting sun reluctantly bid the sky farewell, darkness draping over the land. Taking advantage of the time Ganghachirō had bought them, Ren's group pushed six kilometers away, evading Fuguki Suikazan's tracking technique. They ducked into a cave and sealed the entrance.
But it was only a temporary reprieve. They had three days' worth of food left—far too little to last until Konoha could send reinforcements.
And with Danzō now controlling the ANBU, there was no chance he would dispatch a rescue.
In this time, the only ones who could save them—were themselves.
Inside the cave, morale plummeted. Ren removed his mask, his eyes flickering with unsteady light. Namikaze Minato tried to rally the group, but his words fell flat.
Haining was no longer crying, but his gaze was empty. He ignored the dry rations Nawaki handed him.
Shimura Yū hung his head. Among everyone here, he knew the most about the Seven Ninja Swordsmen's raid—aside from Ren.
And that knowledge only deepened his torment.
He didn't even need to think too hard. He had participated in the earlier mission targeting Gensaburō, and combining that with the recent behavior of Clan Head Danzō… this attack had to be connected to him—most likely, he was the mastermind!
Why…? Why go so far?
They were all shinobi of the same village.
Yū truly couldn't understand. He didn't know if what Danzō was doing was right or wrong—he didn't have the high vantage point or grand vision that Danzō possessed. All he knew was this: the enemies of the village were enemies; the shinobi of the village were comrades.
But now, Danzō had colluded with the enemy to kill his own comrades.
That was a complete betrayal of both the Will of Fire and the shinobi code.